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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23863072">Unus Annus</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanewantstobattle/pseuds/shanewantstobattle'>shanewantstobattle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Geralt is a let's player, Geralt is a popular YouTuber, Geralt is still a Witcher, Geraskier, He's a youtube musician, Humor, I'm kinda not sorry about this, Im not funny so im sorry in advance, Jaskier has an undercut in this, Jaskier is a popular youtuber, Jaskier is still a 'bard', M/M, Modern AU, Modern Era, On camera scenes, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Swearing, There's lots of bad jokes here, There's some monster fighting here, They do a lot of stupid shit on camera, This is entirely based on a tweet I made, Unus Annus but its Geraskier, Yes roach is a dog, Youtube AU, but we love them, do u really think Geralt could fit a horse in a backyard in LA??????, episode based, god i love them, innuendos, off camera scenes, shitty jokes and humor, slowburn, they're idiots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:40:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23863072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanewantstobattle/pseuds/shanewantstobattle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One year of videos. Exactly 365 days to see something unravel before you. At the end it will be deleted. Gone entirely from existence. A death already in the making, planned to from beginning to end.</p><p>But are even the creators ready to see what unfolds? On camera and off?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, geraskier - Relationship, gerlion - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Unus Annus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys!! Shane here :' ) I hope y'all like this fic; it's a bit different than what I usually do ( aka, not entirely built off angst or immediate character injury lmao. WELL,,,,, you know what i mean ) but I really loved the idea of this. I had made a tweet (over at my twitter @BERGARAOFRIVIA) and I just HAD to write this.</p><p>I have a lot planned for this, as usual because I overthink and plan EVERYTHING, but I really hope you guys enjoy this attempted funny fic, and stay along for the ride.</p><p>And as always, thank you guys for being here and reading this ( and bookmarking it if you wanna stick around !!), and as always part two, all kudos and comments and shares are always appreciated &lt;3 you guys keep me doing what I love to do.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>357:12:00:00</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>                     UNUS ANNUS</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>                                                  357:11:59:59</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>                                                                            UNUS ANNUS</em> </b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>                                                                                                          357:11:59:58</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>                                                                                                                                         UNUS ANNUS</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>➤ CAMERAS : RECORDING </b>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Boxes drop from the larger mans’ hands with ease, a jokingly gruff grunt coming from him as his chest huffs with the exaggerated effort, the sound of cardboard scuffing cement scratching into the air. Hands immediately move to his hips as he proudly stands with his knuckles pressing into his hips, nodding sternly as sunset orange hues look to the camera, lips parting as if he’s about to speak.</p><p>“Balls.”</p><p>Head snapping to the side in sudden surprise at the word -<em> not </em> spoken by him -, the alabaster haired man breaks eye contact with the camera, gaze landing on the other man in the camera’s shot, hair a blurring colorless curtain as it settles over the back of his askew shoulder.</p><p>The  camera pans a bit, getting them both in the shot better.</p><p>The second man was crouched behind the boxes, lithe fingers already working on opening the cardboard flaps. Movements pause a moment as he blinks, head raising for sharp azure eyes to meet the camera, then panning to the other man.</p><p>“They’re big.” The crouching man - who’s chestnut tresses are blowing gently with the breeze, showcasing the growing out undercut beneath it - bursts out laughing as he speaks, barely able to even get the words out. His head tilts a bit away from the camera as if trying to stifle his laughter, his body giving a few quick synapses of amused tremors.</p><p>“Jaskier, what the <em> fuck </em> . Also, they’re <em> tubes </em>.” The silver haired man addresses the other - Jaskier -, his own laughter, albeit gruffer and deeper in tone, entering the air, brows furrowing in mock amused concern, hands falling from his hips as they stretch, open - palmed, towards the sky in a quizzical gesture.</p><p>“What?” Jaskier squeaks as he gains his composure back, head craning back to look at the other. “You can’t look at me and tell me I’m <em> wrong </em> , Geralt. Come on, look into the camera and tell our lovely viewers at home that I’m <em> wrong </em>.” Jaskier’s hand raises, stabilizing himself before he slaps the box a few times, looking at Geralt as if waiting for his response, humming behind his sing songy words.</p><p>Geralt looks at the other silently for a moment, a sigh brewing in his sternum, head beginning to shake, the long silvery tresses dancing at the apex of his chest, tickling his bare shoulders; some strands even hiding behind the clipped sleeve of the black tank top he wore. Geralt’s arms - burly and muscular, hints of scars and tattoos visible - raise, moving to cross over his chest, the clinking of metal sounding as the medallion necklace adorning his chest rustles, the pendant peeking out from the top of the man’s arms, yet not enough to decipher what the medallion is.</p><p>“Why don’t we take them out and see them?” He responds with instead, a smug shadow overtaking Jaskier’s visage for a passing moment, his hands raising to clap together, completely forgetting about his posture.</p><p>Yet the motion almost causes the man to fall, his crouching form nearly teetering his ass onto the smooth pavement beneath them.</p><p>Luckily though, he leaned forward, instead planting his knees upon the patio’s cemented ground.</p><p>Better than falling.</p><p>Thankfully, his white shorts cover his knees. White on cement isn’t <em> exactly better </em>, but greatly better than having skinned knees.</p><p>Geralt was silently observing, now also moving to take a crouched seat upon the pavement, helping Jaskier open the two large boxes. One for each.</p><p>And out came two tubes.</p><p>Or what, rather, <em> will </em> be tubes.</p><p>The two large sections of plastic were deflated, coming out of the box like dry worms, slithering from the cardboard confinements with newfound freedom, creating a weirdly stiff sound with the breeze mingling in the cool L.A. summer afternoon.</p><p>“Wow these <em> are </em> big.” Geralt snorts, his hands doing the work of getting his deflated tube fully from the box, gently pushing the plastic aside as he lifts the cardboard container, chucking it somewhere behind him in the backyard, the breeze giving the empty box a few extra tumbles, the <em> cthunk </em> of it hitting the grass being picked up by the camera, sounding louder from the microphone clipped to Geralt’s tank top than the one attached to Jaskier’s kaleidoscope patterned one, Jaskier’s black microphone standing out more upon the white of the fabric than it did from Geralt’s void of a top.</p><p>A brown lab comes bounding at the sound of the box, the canine giving a bit of a bark to notify everyone of her presence, instantly snagging the show.</p><p>“Roach!” Geralt instantly turns - torso swiveling from the turning pivot of his waist, his form falling to land ass first upon the pavement -, plastic tube completely forgotten as he turns, back all but landing upon the edge of the patio and the freshly cut grass, those alabaster tresses splaying behind him as he tries to catch the dog’s attention.</p><p>Giving a short whistle and a few extra coos of “Roach”, the canine notices Geralt is addressing her, head dutifully perking up, tongue hanging from a parted mouth, tail wagging. She bounds towards the group, giving a happy yap as she all but bodyslams Geralt and landing upon his chest, tongue immediately moving to lap endearingly at his face; his features scrunching a bit in response.</p><p>Though he doesn’t kick her off, instead hands begin to move to sift through the lab’s thick coat, digits rising to scratch behind her ears, peppering a few kisses to her forehead.</p><p>“Who’s a good girl?” He grins to the dog, still paying affection to the canine, the entire video completely forgotten.</p><p>Meanwhile, Jaskier looks at the camera, which pans a bit more towards him - with Geralt and Roach still in the corner peripheral frame - his visage impassive, form entirely still, as if it was a still frame rather than a video feed.</p><p>“He never asks <em> me </em> that,” Jaskier gives a mock pout, head dramatically hanging as he shakes it and a click sounding from his mouth, fingers fiddling with the tube, as if looking for an entrance point.</p><p>“I can if you want me too,” Geralt interjects, raising a bit to a sitting position, the mane of his alabaster tresses sticking out from the sides of his skull, malleable to the breeze’s touches, Roach still gently lounging her upper portion in the larger man’s lap, gaze moving to look at Jaskier, distracted by the crinkling of the plastic.</p><p>Jaskier pauses, head titling a bit as he looks up, gaze meeting the other’s, the sharp azure of his eyes glittering dramatically. “Aw shucks you would? Now that’s just too sweet.”</p><p>Snorting, Geralt shakes his head, hands moving to grab back at his plastic tube, doing his own investigation to find the tube’s hole as Roach finally shifts, moving to plop herself in the median grassy area between the two men. “Alright, quit fucking around we got <em> work </em> to do.” Geralt gives  an affirmative grunt, hyping the situation up.</p><p>“Geralt, we’re literally about to blow up two large tubes we’re going to insert ourselves in and then run into one another wearing them like human soccer balls. I think <em> work </em> is an overstatement.” It’s Jaskier’s turn to snort, his hands fumbling with the thick white plastic nozzle attached to the tube, trying to jimmy it from its’ closure, every now and again tilting his head upwards to allow his lips to part, blowing hot air upwards to keep his side parted bangs from his face.</p><p>It didn’t work for long.</p><p>“It’s <em> work </em> goddamnit! How <em> else </em> am I supposed to afford my <em> Tesla </em> ?” Geralt swoons a bit, a hand raising to guard backhandedly at his forehead. “The job of an influencer is <em> hard, </em> Jaskier.” He clicks his tongue as he speaks, sighing with a dramatic sense of dismay.</p><p>Roach, who was now in between Jaskier and Geralt, tilted her head, tail wagging against the harshly packed earth of the grass she was laying on. The camera panned to her for a moment, the woman behind the camera calling a soft “Roach!” As the canine looked directly in the camera, her tongue lolling from her mouth as she panted excitedly.</p><p>“Roach really do be the entire show, huh.” Jaskier commented, still working away at trying to undo the nozzle.</p><p>A fruitless endeavor, truly.</p><p>The camera panned back up, getting said instance in the shot, the forlorn frustration evident across the influencer’s visage.</p><p>A soft <em> pop </em> sounded in the air, Jaskier raising his attention to the sound, such was coming from Geralt, who had successfully gotten the nozzle undone, his citrine gaze raising, blinking a bit as he looked at Jaskier.</p><p>“She do. Maybe that should be your next single.” Geralt joked with a playful snort, his hand moving to set the top of the nozzle aside, lifting the emptied plastic tubing to his lips, readying to fill it.</p><p>Jaskier met the action with brows quirkled skyward, uncertainty swimming in his oceanic hues. “There’s no way you’re about to blow that up with your mouth.”</p><p>Silence followed for only a few seconds before a loud - and elongated - sound of an exhale sounded, the hot air being expelled from Geralt as it was pushed to inside the tube. “Why not? Sheer force of my <em> lungs </em>, Jaskier.” He spoke a bit breathlessly, before sucking in more air, only to propel it into the tube.</p><p>Screwing the nozzle’s top off, Jaskier shook his head and prepped to stand. “Yeah good luck with that. You’ll be here for the rest of the summer. Where’s that bike pump? Garage, right?” Jaskier is muttering to himself as he jumps to a standing position, a hand - adorned by light jewelry of rings - sifting through his hair, adjusting his bangs to their natural tidal wave swoop to the side of his face, exposing  more of the undercut beneath it that hugs the entirety of his skull.</p><p>Geralt doesn’t answer, merely continuing to blow into the tube, though his gaze wanders to Jaskier, following the man as he exits the gate to the backyard, moving to circle the side of the house to the front to gain access to the garage.</p><p>And out of shot of the camera.</p><p>Though, only a few minutes go by before he returns, deep viridian bike pump in hand, returning to where he had left Geralt, who was still blowing into the tube with the sheer force of his lungs.</p><p>In Geralt’s defense, however, it was <em> actually </em> working; the tube was gaining a bit of shape, some of the crinkles and creases smoothing out, starting to form and make an <em> actual </em>tube.</p><p>Noticing this, Jaskier huffed, eyeing the camera as he shook his head in disbelief, his hands moving to undo the bike pumps’ tubing to get it ready to attach it to the nozzle. “I can’t believe you’re just putting your lips there and <em> blowing </em>.”</p><p>Geralt raising his gaze, didn’t respond, merely continuing harshly blowing into the plastic. Though he removed his mouth, brows flickering up and down, a gravelly laugh caught in the back of his throat. “Well,” he starts, his hand moving to plug the nozzle so as to not let any of his hardworking air out, “One of us has to.”</p><p>Jaskier sputters on air for a moment, coughing with widened eyes, hands completely forgetting the pump, the item falling haphazardly from his fingers. Geralt merely offers a casual shrug, a smug smirk curling at the edges of his lips, finger removing itself from the tube’s nozzle as he goes about blowing air into it again.</p><p>Bending down to retrieve the lost pump, Jaskier exhales a snorting <em> humph </em> . “Well, <em> some of us </em> , have bad lungs, and you know a thing called <em> asthma </em>.”</p><p>“Your lungs are just <em> weak </em>.”</p><p>“I have <em> asthma!” </em> Jaskier retorts, huffing as he adjusts the bike pump into the tube’s opening.</p><p>“Yet you sing,” Geralt rebuttals with as he looks at Jaskier, speaking between the gulping breaths that were <em> actually blowing up the tube </em>.</p><p>Jaskier pauses, lips moving to purse into a thin line. He’s silent for a moment as he tries to angrily pump air in the tube. Fruitlessly, mind you.</p><p>“That’s different than just <em> blowing air into a tube, </em>Geralt.” The musician clicks his tongue, skull giving a few back and forth paces.</p><p>“Is it?” Geralt continus to tease, tilting his head as he gives the other a mock incredulous look, brows raised heavenwards.</p><p>“Yes, for your information. Now, how the hell am I supposed to do this?” Moving back to the task at hand, Jaskier continues to fumble with the pump, trying to give a few more pushes into the tube.</p><p>It raises and then : nothing.</p><p>Jaskier looks up into the camera, his features entirely neutralized into an exhausted impassiveness, oceanic hues purposefully dull.</p><p>After a moment he sighs, breaking eye contact with the lens, hands dropping the pump entirely now, moving to shift upon a perch on his hips. “I wonder if there are any stores open still,” He mutters after a moment, fishing his phone from his pocket. “How close is the closest closing store?” Jaskier ponders aloud, looking to Geralt for an answer.</p><p>After all, they <em> were </em> at Geralt’s; he knew the area better than anyone else.</p><p>Yet, Geralt doesn’t answer, only gifting Jaskier some deep, and exaggerated, breaths, and the raising of his brows, which furrow upon the apex of his browbone, the creases indicating a quizzical look, as if asking ‘want to try that again?’</p><p>But, Jaskier doesn't, his hands and attention instead focusing on typing upon the smartphone screen, giving a few taps before the device is lifted, cushioning it against his ear. Jaskier gives a hint of a smirk before turning a bit, taking a few steps onto the grass - careful not to trample on or over Roach - walking a bit away from the patio.</p><p>Geralt, in the meantime, is still working on blowing up his tube; which, by now, seems pretty tube-like, the formation of it almost complete. Seems just <em> blowing into it </em> really did the trick.</p><p>“Is he really calling someone?” The woman behind the camera asks, giving a bit of a laugh with her words; which weren’t belittling of course, merely curious. Hell, she’d do the same thing if she was in Jaskier’s shoes.</p><p>Leave it to the big muscular man to try and blow it up with nothing but a chest filled with bravado.</p><p>As if to answer her question, since it seemed still Geralt wasn’t letting up his hulking breaths until the tube was <em> entirely </em> filled, Jaskier’s voice filled the outskirts of the backyard, “Hi, yes, I just had a question? I have this big tube here that needs to be blown up, is there any way that if I bring it there, can you guys can blow it up for me?” His voice is only slightly muffled from the bit of distance, but the camera pans, focusing on him for a moment.</p><p>His free hand fidgets with itself as he talks, as if trying to prove as a distraction. The camera gets his full physique in - even the shifting of his feet as he paces as he talks - noting the colorless, except for the scuff of cemented dirt to the knees, shorts, a logo pressed alongside the side edge of the pants in a vertical manner, the kaleidoscope-like tank top he wore, the various colored shards coming together in a mosaic pattern, the colors dancing brilliantly in the setting summer sun, the disposed light glimmering with the musician’s movement.</p><p>“Perfect, thank you!” Jaskier replies again after a moment, lowering his phone as he returns to the patio, his hands cupping his phone in a makeshift finger bridge, his gaze still curiously studying Geralt.</p><p>“You got stamina, I’ll give you that .” Jaskier comments with a snort, gaze panning to the camera for a moment. “Well, while you burst your lungs I’m going to go have this blown up and save my lungs. You know, for my job.” </p><p>Geralt removes himself from the tube, giving a heaving breath; even despite Jaskier’s comment, sweat is beginning to form across the YouTuber’s forehead, the almost fully formed tube sitting in his grip, waiting for the final touches of breath. His countenance was growing crimson, physique exerting the large amounts of energy. Spitting a thick strand of hair from his mouth as the wind blows once more, and sticking Geralt’s silver strands to his temples and neck, Geralt gives a gravelly chuckle.</p><p>“You know we have the same job, right?” </p><p>Jaskier didn’t answer that at first, instead heaving a bit of a snort, moving instead to bend at the waist, to lower himself to grab the still deflated tube, the nozzle - half unscrewed, clinging to the nozzle’s opening - flapping with the sudden upward jerking movement. </p><p>“I meant singing,” Jaskier replies, holding the plastic tube to his chest as he made sure it was all off the ground, preparing to lug it to the car. “ Semantics, Geralt! I’m taking your Tesla and I’m going to get this blown up. The normal way.”</p><p>Through, before Geralt could comment - a quip brewing to his lips -, Jaskier was making his way back to the gate, lugging the tube in his hand like it was a precious gem, only turning around at the last second, Jaskier obviously singing. He raised a hand, pointing to Geralt as he started belting the lyrics :</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 'Ain't nothing gonna break my stride, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I got to keep on movin. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ain't nothing break a my stride, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> nobody gonna slow me down!’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier continued belting the lyrics as he was leaving, the sound of the gate closing behind him on beat with the end of the chorus.</p><p>The camera shifted then, moving back to focus upon Geralt, the only one left in the backyard.</p><p>Minus Roach too, of course.</p><p>Geralt, meanwhile, with the sound of the garage opening in the background, was all but hunched over the now fully inflated tube, his bobbing shoulders the only indicators of movement. It was only when he was raising his skull - visage still dancing upon vermilion - that it was obvious he was in fact laughing at the ordeal, lips spread wide into a fully berthed smile.</p><p>"I hate him," Geralt replied, remnants of laughter still exiting his form, skull tipping a few times from side to side. "But, with him doing his bike shop stop, it gives me time to prepare to kick his ass."</p><p>"Geralt, you're not fighting in the tubes," the female voice from behind the camera speaks up again, Geralt giving a click of his tongue as a reply.</p><p>"Says who? Makes for a great title too : Tube deathmatch, Unus Annus fights to the DEATH." Citrine hues become alight then, a fierceness inside them that is reflected from the camera like lava plumes erupting from a dormant volcano, the orangey and crimson colors dancing in the canary with a blaze.</p><p>"Geralt no." Despite the denial of the other's idea, the woman's microphone caught her small flutter of a laugh to her words, amusement heavily lacing her current demeanor.</p><p>Geralt lightly scoffs as he moves to stand, the gripless tube gently bouncing a bit, perking up the attention of Roach, who looks over at it quizzically, her head tilting to the side a bit. "You're no fun," Geralt jokes, his hands working at removing the obsidian ribbon tied to his wrist, the silky like fabric coming undone with ease, pooling in Geralt's fingers alike actual silk, his fingers, calloused and gruff, gently running over the surface for a brief interlude.</p><p>Though the intermission of the moment doesn't last long as Geralt tips himself forward at the pivot of his waist, hands nimbly moving to grasp the sea of alabaster tresses hanging in front of him like a colorless waterfall, desaturated of all its' blue, the life it held. Such a position is easily snapped back as the influencer comes back up to a straight standing position, fingers moving to secure the full head of hair in the ribbon's grip, tying it into a messy bun at the back of his skull. His arms flex a bit in the raised and angled positioning, the muscles becoming taut in the movement, the tank's makeshift sleeve shifting, exposing more of the hint of the tattoo adorning Geralt's arm - that tattoo which painted the man's right bicep and shoulder , the viridian from the leaves peeking out.</p><p>It wouldn't be the first time a bit of a tattoo was showing.</p><p>After doing this for years, his viewers have seen a lot.</p><p>"Wow, what a look," The woman comments, giving a light snort. To which, Geralt huffs.</p><p>"It's hot, and I don't want my chances of kicking Jaskier's ass to diminish because my hair wants to cling to me like a thigh to a restaurant booth on a summer afternoon," the man shakes his head, the few strands from the front of his widow's peak loosening from the bun, shaking out with him.</p><p>"You need a haircut then," she replies.</p><p>A hand immediately raises to Geralt's chest, pushing the medallion upward, showcasing the full brandished wolf's head baring its fangs in a portrait style fashion.</p><p>Though, his viewers and subscribers have pointed it out numerous times, and time and time again:'</p><p>Geralt never answers what it's for, what it means.</p><p>But oh, the fan theories are insurmountable.</p><p>Geralt gives a few exaggerated blinks, a sigh of dismay withering from his lips. "I can't believe you'd even suggest such a thing Yen. My hair is my <em> brand </em>!" The words are overly laced in theatrics, lips even putting on a pouting tremor.</p><p>"After almost ten years, you still think your hair is your only brand?" Yennefer scoffs lightly, giving a bit of a sigh. "There's more to you than your hair, Geralt."</p><p>At this, Geralt takes the time to give a bit of a smile, the edges of his lips curling, swirling a softened look across his visage. "You're right. Like my friends."</p><p>Yen is silent for a moment after that, Geralt's words hanging in the air, sifting through the warm summer breeze like petals of a flower, allowing the sweet and homey aroma to take hold.</p><p>"You know, I'm not going to edit this out. Geralt, being soft on camera? Always a must have." She teased in her reply, Geralt only giving a shrug in return.</p><p>"Good, keep it in. We're soft here on Unus Annus."</p><p>"Cut to less than five minutes ago when you talked about a deathmatch with Jaskier."</p><p>"Out of love!" Geralt protests, giving a gravelly laugh as he bends down, retrieving the tube. His microphone is taken over then, lost to the sound of Geralt putting himself into the tube, giving a few muffled grunts along the way.</p><p>Though, after a moment, Geralt is in fact shielded by the tube, fingers moving to grasp at the thick plastic handles inside. He immediately turns then, honing his attention in on Roach, who's abruptly getting up, spine bending as she gets into a crouching positioning, as if she's ready to pounce. The second Geralt steps forward to get to her she lets out a loud bark, moving to run from Geralt, who only continues to chase her around the backyard.</p><p>"Roach, it's just me!" He calls after her, still running, huffing into the microphone that's stuck with him inside the tunnel of the tube's singular opening. The mic picks up his huffing as he runs, the exhales sounding like a dragon’s breath right before fire plumes from his mouth, gravelly and deep, low in the back of his throat, as if fire was brewing upon his trachea.</p><p>Efforts die off as Geralt’s footsteps slow, scuffing along the grass as he stops entirely, watching as Roach takes a few cautionary sprinting gallops forward, trying to put distance between herself and the Strange Tube Man Who Strangely Sounds Like Geralt.</p><p>At this point Geralt grumbles , feet doing a bit of a nervous dance in the grass; it was obvious he was uncomfortable to some degree, though due to the tube he was currently incarcerated by, he couldn’t exactly tell what was bothering him.</p><p>A hand wiggles from the tube, trying to assess himself, starting at his shirt. Which was fine, only marginally creased from the adjustment of getting himself into the tube. Then his pants.</p><p>The hand touching his thigh. His <em> bare </em> thigh.</p><p>“My pants are up my ass,” he groaned, the limited movement he had to move his hand fighting with the fabric of his shorts to try and tug them down.</p><p>Seemed the running around had caused the fabric to hitch, hiking up his thighs.</p><p>Such an action only proved to showcase another tattoo of Geralt’s, though this time: the entire thing was on display. </p><p>The golden dragon wrapped around the entirety of the man’s thigh, the scales brilliantly and shining within the sun’s light, the glimmering sparkles of the tattoo’s ink glittering against Geralt’s muscled thigh as the dragon grasped upon it; it’s singular visible azure eye glancing at the camera as it studied the ink. The dragon’s claw gripped at the side of Geralt’s thigh as the influencer tried to shimmy the fabric down.</p><p>It was only when Jaskier was returning - with a slightly inflated, slightly deflated, tube - into the backyard, that Geralt managed to fix it.</p><p>“Woah, the fuck did I miss here?” Jaskier speaks, making his presence known to the area once more.</p><p>Popping out from the tube, Geralt looks at the other, brows instantly raising at the tube in Jaskier’s hands.</p><p>“I should be asking you the same thing? The fuck happened?” His words were a deep hum, trying to dispel the attention from the thigh slip.</p><p>Jaskier returns to the grass of the backyard, gently tossing the tube - or what should be a tube - besides Geralt’s, which gently bounces, still holding fast to its defined shape. </p><p>Jaskier collapses on the patio once more, taking claim beside his defeated tube. “I went to the shop, they filled it and everything,” a pause, Jaskier raising his gaze to latch on to Geralt, following him as Geralt too takes a seat back upon the cement, “But it wouldn’t fit in the car, so I had to deflate it a bit.”</p><p>The musician pouts a bit, tiers wobbling as he continues to look at Geralt. Though, he stands back up, grabbing the tube to slither himself inside it as best as he could, just like Geralt had moments prior, like a seemingly last hoorah, trying to at least show off the <em> bit </em> of shape it held.</p><p>“Do you want me to finish blowing it up?” Geralt offers, moving to raise a knee to lean his torso on.</p><p>Jaskier merely blinks at him, giving a bit of a smile through the warping plastic, fingers gently tapping against the harsh plastic of the handles.</p><p>Geralt takes the silence as a ‘yes’, form moving to kneel in front of the other, calloused digits moving to unscrew the tube’s nozzle, careful not to let too much more air escape.</p><p>“The things I do for love,” he glances at the camera with a muttering snort, moving to start blowing into the nozzle.</p><p>Jaskier can’t help but laugh, gently shifting forward as he tries to get a better access for Geralt, feet planted on either side of Geralt’s legs, whom at this point had started to laugh a bit as well.</p><p>“Who’s a good boy?” Geralt snorts, heaving a few more breaths before giving a feign coo, sputtering a bit more of a breath before laughing again.</p><p>From inside the tube Jaskier gives an exaggerated gasp , hands slipping from the handles to cup at his own cheeks. “Are you asking me?” </p><p>“Of course I am, who else would I be asking Jaskier?” Geralt pulls a bit back from the tube with a click of his tongue, moving to plug the nozzle back up.</p><p>“Alright, that should be good enough. Not the best but it’ll do. Come on, let’s test these bad boys.” Geralt stands, brushing particles of pavement from his shorts, moving to grab at his own sphere again.</p><p>“I take one end, you take the other? And we just run into each other?” Jaskier suggests, wiggling a bit to get comfortable, both of their microphones picking up the rustling of the plastic and fabric.</p><p>“Sounds good. Positions!”</p><p>The two move almost in sync, breaking apart from the patio as they take places on either edge of the backyard - Jaskier by the gate and Geralt by the neighboring fence - both of them trotting along in their human spheres.</p><p>“Alright ready you two?” Yennefer speaks from her position behind the camera, moving to position it in the center point between the two men, knowing she won’t get them both in frame, but knowing the impact point will be the best angle.</p><p>“Hell yeah!” Jaskier calls, fingers taking position back upon the plastic handles, digits white - knuckling the grip.</p><p>“Firstly we’ll just run at each other, then we can run and jump, okay?” Geralt calls, Jaskier using the tube to swivel his entire torso forward in a full body nod.</p><p>And then : they ran at each other.</p><p>It was a funny moment, truly, seeing the two run at one another. It was obvious from the get go Geralt would impact Jaskier first, and harder,  but the anticipation of them running towards one another and actually hitting the other; was moderately entertaining all the same.</p><p>And of course, Geralt slammed into Jaskier, the reaction force of the impact sending his whole body falling backward, the spheres - luckily still intact and entirely inflated - breaching it, cushioning him so he wouldn’t actually hit the ground.</p><p>Or worse, get injured.</p><p>For now.</p><p>Though, when they readied themselves to run at each other and jump: that’s when it went wrong.</p><p>Upon Geralt’s call once more they ran at one other, both convinced the other would jump, and right before impact Geralt jumped.</p><p>But Jaskier? Didn’t.</p><p>And Geralt’s foot landed harshly right upon the musician’s balls, the toe of his shoe giving the most pressure from the jump.</p><p>Upon the second falling, Jaskier was a mess, a mixture of laughing and crying wails falling from his lips in gasps, hands moving to cup at his lower region, legs raising as he tried to curl into a makeshift fetal position.</p><p>“<em> Geralt you crushed my nuts!” </em></p>
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